Snow and the Shadows (Once Upon a Harem Book 2)

by Cara Carnes

  “Nor have I,” Zelig admitted.

  “The plan?” Ashan demanded. “For her. With us.”

  “You and Ren will be the first to spend time with her. Your auras and personalities are the…simplest to handle.” Zelig loathed admitting he was far more similar to Marden’s violent nature than the optimism Ashan displayed. “Tezan is our first priority, but our ultimate objective is keeping Snow safe.”

  “Even if it’s from ourselves,” Marden said. “We are too far gone to mate. You know it is true.”

  Zelig looked at the warrior who’d sacrificed so much for their people. He’d done the impossible and survived a horror no one spoke of, much less experienced. “We owe it to the others to try. We owe it to ourselves.”

  The man grunted and left.

  “Even if she accepts our culture, us…” Varik crossed his arms and looked at the exit Marden had taken. “He won’t accept her. There’s nothing we can do to change that.”

  “No, but I’m hoping anyway. Today was the first time I felt anything from him except rage,” Ashan said.

  “I agree,” Slade said. “This will work. It has to.”

  Snow

  * * *

  I awoke with a start. Pain, anger, remorse, guilt, and confusion struck my thoughts, battering rams of debilitating emotion so fierce I tumbled to my knees beside the sleeping surface. Nausea pitched my stomach’s meager contents. The Shadows had been insistent I eat before I slept, so I’d forced a few bites of replicated food. I loathed replicators. Everything tasted the same on my tongue. Nothingness.

  I purged my stomach of the vile substances and drank water until the ashen taste coating my mouth disappeared. Throwing up psychic shields would be wise, but I knew where the boomeranging emotions were coming from.

  Ren.

  Did his fellow warriors and friends sense the riotous chaos? I needed to find one of them, make sure he was okay.

  Varik. He would help ease the man’s suffering.

  First, I wanted to see Ren for myself. The other Shadows hovered earlier, navigating me away as if not trusting the two of us to be alone together, which was ludicrous because I sensed the good nature within his aura, the bashfulness. I followed the riotous wave down the corridor and halted at an entry three quarters down. The hatch slid open, and I entered.

  Ren was on the sleeping surface. Pale light from an overhead light in the corner filled the room. Sweat beaded along his skin. Growls, groans, and unintelligible words tumbled from his lips even though he appeared to be asleep. Restraints kept his arms at his sides and his ankles pinned to the surface. Why would they restrain him? I sat in the seat beside the bed and reached for him, wanting to ease the worst of the horrid storm he battled.

  How?

  I arced my aura out, allowing my psychic self to reach for his, but a shield was raised, a strong one I didn’t dare fight. What would happen if I forced the shield down? Would he be harmed? Yora and Lazar had worked with me some on shielding, mainly to keep me safe from their straying thoughts on The Paradox. I wasn’t very good at doing more than keeping my own shield up, though.

  A dull throb banged along my temples, but I ignored the unwanted sensation and studied Ren. His skin was hot, far warmer than expected. A fever?

  I needed to get Varik.

  Intricate designs along his torso drew my attention. They were remarkable, beautiful and so detailed. The artistry was something I’d never seen before, yet they demanded my attention. The etchings were similar to tattoos, but deep within Ren’s skin, like a branding. One of the designs moved, writhed along his left pectoral. I focused on the area, traced the design with a fingertip.

  Anger struck my aura, so swift and fierce my entire body jolted from the impact.

  The face of a Crunan barbarian appeared in my mind. His sword swung and struck enemies on a bloody battleground I recognized easily as the recently fallen Starth capital. Sky ships blasted plasma and laser weapons from overhead. The air. I tasted ash on my tongue and inhaled the coppery stench of blood and death. My body hurt, my chest and lungs fought for each breath as the man stumbled to his knees. He peered up, glared at…

  Ren.

  Shock rippled through me.

  A soul.

  I almost severed contact at the realization I was seeing memories from one of the souls Ren had acquired. A Crunan barbarian.

  “You led your forces well, Commander. Surrender for final judgment now. I will honor your warrior spirit, even if he stands against our kind.”

  “I’ll never kneel before a Roteran. Don’t mock me with your farce of a religion. Queen Vilma and her Oracle’s Will is all this warrior needs.” The barbarian pulled his hand from his side as the other released the grip on the sword. Blood oozed from a mortal wound Snow felt as though it were her own.

  “She is not the true Summoner,” Ren replied. He grasped the man’s head with both hands.

  I heard the chant, felt the barbarian’s terror as he expended his last breath. His soul. The chant wrapped around the man’s spirit and lifted, guided it until it was within Ren’s aura, a part of his identity.

  I touched the marking fully, offered healing, calming energy. Willed it into the barbarian’s spirit and offered a small part of myself to the once-proud warrior.

  Anger pulsated beneath my fingertips, then dulled a bit as the focus shifted.

  Ren was on an exam table. He pulled and tugged against restraints much like I saw him doing now. The barbarian’s voice rumbled from Ren’s lips.

  “Release me!”

  “Calm, warrior.” A soft-spoken elderly man sat on a small stool beside Ren. “Tell me your story, and I shall build you a spirit dwelling, a place of your own within the warrior who allowed your spirit to continue living. He blessed you with the gift. Accept your fate and help us honor who you once were and who you wish to become.”

  I rested my head on my arm, closed my eyes and let the barbarian spirit tell his tale, share images and memories of what’d happened since his death. While I didn’t fully understand, his initial rage gave way to an uneasy respect for Ren and the other Shadows.

  It was the new spirits Ren acquired that enraged the warrior.

  Jealousy seeped into the shared thoughts.

  You’re jealous of the new souls. I pushed the thought through the psychic connection I’d established. You are a fine warrior, have served him well. He will never disrespect you by ignoring what you offer him. You are a part of him, an important part of who he’s become. Do not be angry at the new souls. I knew them well, they were proud warriors like you, died protecting me—a mere slave. They deserve the honor he gave you. Help them acclimate. Guide their new existence.

  The anger dissipated. Calm, silent acceptance coursed through the psychic link.

  The Crunan barbarian spirit flashed an image, one I recognized as being along Ren’s ribcage. I smiled and stroked the proud warrior’s emblem one last time. He may have once been an enemy but had become much more in his new life. I accepted his succinct order—he no longer needed me, but the others did. I looked up at Ren, who seemed to rest easier than before. Had I helped?

  I wanted to spend time with each of the spirits within the restless Shadow, but I didn’t have the time, not now. The other Shadows were fiercely protective, didn’t want me to be alone with him. Were they afraid the angered spirits within him would take over, make Ren lash out and harm me?

  I stood, pressed a button on the display above the sleeping surface and waited until it expanded enough for me to fit. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, but I wasn’t worried. Or frightened. Lazar, Evon, and Vellis were in there somewhere, trapped within a confusing state of dead, but alive. Their terror and confusion incited reactions within Ren’s other souls, the ones who’d acclimated to their new existence. Or so I assumed.

  I stretched out beside Ren and wished I could remove his restraints. He wasn’t a violent monster. Nothing in his aura ever indicated that, not even when he was seemingly losing control over the
spirits within him. I traced the next etching on his skin, the one the Crunan had pointed out. I rested my head on the Crunan’s etching and closed my eyes. My psychic self wandered and followed the strongest set of images assailing me.

  Lazar, Evan, Vellis, I’m here. It’s me, Snow. Calm. Watch. Learn. You’re okay.

  I’m okay.

  We’re all okay.

  I settled into Ren’s warmth and tumbled into the images. Violence, love, pride, determination, anger, pain, confusion, and carnal lust were a few of the sensations crawling through me, worming their way deep into my heart and soul. The marrow of who I was. They wove around me in a complicated tapestry, the urgent need for my acceptance and understanding was overwhelming, impossible to ignore.

  I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. We’re all okay. Calm.

  “Snow!” The urgent growl caused me to startle, rouse the sleeping spirits stretched out around my aura. Zelig, Varik, and Dacian loomed above me. “What have you done?”

  Zelig’s voice was more bark from concern than outright anger. Hand on his hip, his gaze swept her and Ren. “Come here, Snow. Step away from him. Slowly.”

  “I am in control,” Ren said. “I woke a while ago.”

  Varik moved to the other side of the sleeping surface. He touched the man’s forehead and grasped his shoulder. “The spirits are calm.”

  “Aye, they are all asleep, even the new ones. She lulled them. She has a healer’s aura.”

  “That cannot be,” Zelig argued. “She’s a Summoner, a channeler. For her to be both would be…”

  “Ancient Tezan legend foretold of a special birth, an Omega.” Dacian’s lips thinned into a grim expression. “The Omega would possess all Tezan abilities, be the ultimate Summoner of the Oracle’s Will.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Varik asked.

  “Why the grim expression?” I asked. “I sense your worry.”

  “Legend foretold the Omega would come into the powers quickly once they were unleashed. They would be all consuming.”

  “No,” Zelig growled. “You are wrong. She is not the Omega.”

  “All consuming?” I didn’t like the sound of that. I remained silent as the four men stared at one another.

  “She is fine,” Ren said. “It stands to reason she could perform more than one of the Tezan abilities if she’s a noble bloodline. It’s why we must get to Tezan immediately. I agree, this doesn’t mean she’s the Omega.”

  “How can we verify if I’m this Omega?” I sat up and looked at Dacian. “What do you mean by all consuming?”

  “It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Ren said. “Him knowing an ancient legend doesn’t make it so.”

  “I want to know,” I argued. “I’d rather be prepared than surprised.”

  “She’s right,” Varik said. “Tell us.”

  Zelig cursed. “The others are en route.”

  Slade, Marden, and Ashan arrived sooner than I expected. Neither Slade nor Marden wore shirts. Both men’s chests were covered with intricate etchings, far more than Ren. I swallowed, silently counting the unique designs. How could one warrior control so many spirits? The sheer madness so many voices would incite. Stupefied, I forced the thought aside and focused on Dacian’s statement.

  “Dacian thinks I’m an Omega,” I said into the silence. “Not sure what that is, but he was about to explain. Everything.”

  The man crossed his arms and smirked. I may have been born a slave, but I’d spent the past ten solar cycles abandoned on a cargo ship, with only four other people. They tended to speak their minds, so I’d acclimated to a no-secrets communication style.

  “Ancient Tezan legend foretold the birth of an Omega: a Tezan Summoner with powers and abilities so strong and encompassing that…” He shifted restlessly. His gaze wandered. “The Omega is the Oracle’s final harbinger, one so strong and true the plane we are on will finally bridge with that of the Oracle.”

  “And the Omega?” Ashan asked, face pale. “What becomes of the Omega when the planes merge?”

  “It is the Omega’s light that becomes the bridge between the two realities,” Dacian replied. “The legend didn’t say anything more that I remember.”

  “Find out,” Slade ordered. “What you’re saying is unacceptable. None of my Tezan souls agree.”

  “It was a well-kept secret within the highest Tezan sects. I ran across it while researching the ancient scrolls,” Dacian offered.

  Marden charged out of the room. Zelig glanced back at the hallway he’d headed into. “Someone remain with him.”

  Ashan flashed Snow a hesitant smile, then charged after Marden.

  Ren rose from the sleeping surface and stretched. “The souls within me are calmer than ever, as if they’ve truly become one. I can’t…”

  “You can’t what?” Concern punctuated Varik’s inquiry.

  “I cannot explain, but it’s as though they’ve unified into one entity. At least they had when I awoke. I sensed them all huddled around her aura, as if they protected her while she slumbered. The three new spirits have already been embraced, even by the darker souls.”

  “So, it’s true. She is a healer,” Slade said. “We’ve worked with many so-called Tezan healers, and I can recall only one able to come close to calming any soul so well.”

  “Aye, we’re heading toward him now,” Dacian said. “Perhaps Nefus will know more of the Omega legend.”

  “He’s a risk we shouldn’t take right now. The new souls are manageable. She’s soothed them. They will wait for placement,” Ren argued. “We should head directly to Tezan. The longer we can avoid whatever bounty hunters Queen Vilma sent for us, the better.”

  “Why would she send hunters?” I asked. “She gave me to you.”

  “With orders to assassinate you or take you to a slave emporium. She offered a bonus if we’d do the latter. It’s a fate far worse than a quick death. She would’ve gotten word by now you weren’t deposited at the slave emporium like she expected. She’ll have realize we’ve betrayed her,” Zelig said.

  “And she’ll send bounty hunters after you?” I looked around, slightly confused. “That’s a bit crazy.”

  “Why?” Slade asked.

  “Even I know Roterans are the fiercest warriors around. You’re Shadows. No one would stand a chance against you. I may have been sequestered on a cargo ship, but we drifted everywhere. I’ve seen how terrified most species are of you all. I can’t imagine anyone would go against you.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Ren answered. “Space pirates and some of the more violent species who kill for sport would gladly take a large payday.”

  “Not to mention the bragging rights of taking a Shadow squadron down. It’s happened before,” Varik said. “That’s how…”

  “Don’t,” Zelig growled. “That’s not our story to tell.”

  “No, but it affects us all, most especially her. He’ll never tell her.”

  I waited out the thickening silence. Emotions bandied between the men as they did the awkward glare thing I suspected was a telepathic link.

  “Marden was a squadron Commander. His unit was on the farthest regions of space, the uncharted territory surrounding the Gypsy Nebulae.” Dacian’s voice softened, a forlorn tone. I took his hand. He squeezed mine. “They fell under attack by space pirates, an entire fleet of them. They are rampant within that sector because of all the cargo the Gypsies run through the nebulae.”

  I knew very little about the Gypsy Nebulae, only that it was a terrifying region of space where normal ships didn’t work. Any vessel foolish enough to enter was at its mercy. Only Gypsy transports made from antiquated mechanisms, which ran on the nebula’s gases could navigate the area. I’d heard tales they navigated portals within the nebulae, portals that could maneuver through time and different planes of existence.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “He was the sole survivor. They were a newer squadron, had been raised together from an early age,” Zelig said
.

  “He salvaged them all, every soul aboard his downed ship. By the time help arrived, he’d entered what’s known as a Roteran Rage, a horrid psychopathy few survive,” Varik added. “He was in a mad delirium for an entire solar cycle. Command wanted him removed from the Shadows altogether. Too many claimed he’d never fully depart the delirium.”

  “And you took him on,” I whispered. My heart swelled. The fierce protectiveness and love they had for Marden overwhelmed me.

  “One of the Shadow warriors killed was my blood brother,” Zelig replied.

  Wow. I had so many questions. They’d have to wait, however. They’d shared more than they felt comfortable with. That much was evident in their tensing stances.

  “Thank you for telling me,” I said. “And thank you for honoring his bravery when no one else would. I can’t imagine how hard that was for him. Or you.”

  Zelig stroked my face. “He carries more spirits in him than any other Shadow warrior, far more than we should. Only a few Dark Guardians carry more. Take care around him, Snow. He has a steadfast warrior’s control, but with that many spirits, he’s unpredictable.”

  I nodded.

  “Come, let’s eat before we arrive on the Avaru Outpost,” Slade said.

  The hull probably had more flavor than the replicator rations, but I didn’t comment. The Avaru Outpost was on the exterior edge of Avaru space, which bordered Roteran controlled regions for the most part. Only a scant corridor known as the Demon’s Den connected the Avaru with their archenemy, the Crunan.

  Common sense would dictate the Avaru would have been an ally for the Tezan Empire before the Intergalactic War began. Sadly, civilizations in deep space tended to look out for themselves and not worry about others. If the Crunans were destroying the Tezan, the Avaru weren’t in jeopardy. The backward, archaic mentality had morphed what could’ve been a simple space skirmish into an outright war, one which had dragged on for so long I couldn’t imagine an end.